


Baseline

by stardustandswimmingpools



Category: In the Heights - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Baseball, Bad Spanish, Baseball, Bisexual Female Character, Explicit Language, F/F, Female Relationships, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Girls Kissing, I'm so sorry, ULTIMATE CROSSOVER LIKE WHAT, Washington Nationals, anyway, baseball au?? more like BAEball au, because vanessa, i legit cannot believe i lowkey wrote a Nats fanfic and disguised it with in the heights, listen to me guys, terminology that people who don't know baseball won't understand, the context will be explained all will come to light my friends, the title of this fic in my google docs is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 11:42:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8749309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardustandswimmingpools/pseuds/stardustandswimmingpools
Summary: Vanessa is the first female baseball player on an MLB team (the Washington Nationals, to be precise). Nina is supposed to be saving up for college (UMD, to be precise). Baseline tickets for the first game of the season are way too expensive for Nina too afford, and Vanessa just wants to protect her very platonic best friend from going broke.
[Note: MLB stands for Major League Baseball]





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GamblingDementor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GamblingDementor/gifts).



> So many notes! First off, terminology.  
> A **glove** is a baseball glove and [ it looks like this](http://oakvillelittleleague.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/08/752172.jpg) and you use it to catch the baseball when it's thrown to you. Another word for a glove is a **mitt**.  
>  The rules of baseball are too complicated to explain here, but [ here's a link to a website that will hopefully help](http://www.youthbaseballbasics.com/very_basic_rules.shtml). Also, [here's what the baseball field looks like](http://a.espncdn.com/photo/2008/0509/WAS_80810873_580.jpg) \- the circle in the middle is where the pitcher stands, and the slightly bigger circle in front of it is where the batter stands.  
> The lines that form a kind of right angle and extend from the bigger circle are called the **baselines**. (That might actually be two words, I'm not positive). The one on the right is the **first base line** because it crosses over first base. The one on the right is the **third base line** because it crosses over third base.  
>  Side note: Vanessa's number is 21 because Champagne is the 21st song on the ITH soundtrack and I'm a nerd.  
> The **dugout** is where the respective teams sit while they're batting. It's like a waiting room, kind of. All their equipment is in there. (Probably - I've never been in an MLB dugout).  
>  Vanessa plays **second base** , which is just the one between first and third.  
> The ceremonial first pitch of a game is thrown by someone important who usually sucks at baseball. It's ceremonial and doesn't actually count toward the game.  
> All the names in this that you don't recognize are probably Nationals baseball players (and two Yankees) so don't worry about those they're just people.  
>  **Home plate** is the base in the bigger circle, where the batter stands.  
>  **Shortstop** is right between second and third base.  
>  I'm not even gonna try and explain the stuff like "high and outside" or "fly ball" or "on deck", not necessarily because it's complicated but because then this author's note would be longer than the actual fic (actually probably not. This fic is indulgently long.) Any other words you don't know you're welcome to google, or ask me, because I'm always happy to prove my knowledge of sports :)  
> *exhales heavily* now that all the baseball stuff is out of the way, let me conclude by saying PLEASE enjoy this, and also I'm bad at writing kissing due to the fact that I have never in actuality been kissed, so please don't judge me, and also, Vanessa really needs to work on not repressing her emotions.  
> And also, HUGE thank you to [@GamblingDementor](http://archiveofourown.org/users/GamblingDementor) ([@hamiltonandfluff](http://hamiltonandfluff.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr) for inspiring me to write this and letting me send her random messages about it, you are the real MVP (wow, accidental sports reference, how appropriate).  
> Last thing: for context, I switched around some ~~(a lot of)~~ canon for convenience purposes. So Nina is studying at UMD (not a prestigious school like Harvard, I know, just...let it be, okay) and they both live in Maryland. Vanessa is the first female player on the Washington Nationals baseball team.  
>  Okay, go!

The ball landed in the center of Vanessa’s glove with a satisfying  _ thunk _ and she closed the leather around it.

“Nice throw,” she said approvingly to Nina, who was a few feet from her and chewing her lip with intense focus, even though the ball had already left her grip and entered Vanessa’s.

“You're just saying that,” Nina said, and grinned impishly.

“Yeah, you're right. It was a terrible throw,” Vanessa said, deadpan. “I'm just a really good catcher.”

Nina chuckled, and Vanessa’s heart filled up a little more.

They had been friends since the world had begun, it seemed; twenty-three years, always together, able to read each other's minds with a glance. But Vanessa wanted  _ more _ : more laughs that made Nina’s nose scrunch up, more smiles that crinkled around her eyes, more touches that seared heat into Vanessa’s skin. They’d been doing this maybe-maybe-not dance for awhile.

Of course, to keep Nina, Vanessa would do anything — including, of course, remaining her best friend until the end of time or their deaths, whichever came first. So she did the dance too, and pretended that telling Nina her awful throw was good was just a cheeky lie.

“Nervous for the game?” Nina asked, and startled Vanessa back to earth. She tossed the ball underhand to Nina, who fumbled with it for a moment before it dropped onto the grass.

Vanessa grinned. “Nah, I'll be okay. I don't get nervous, remember?”

“What about third grade, when you presented that project on Angelina Jolie and —?”

“ _ Ay, dios mío,  _ stop bringing that up! It was one time!” Vanessa exclaimed, and Nina laughed.

“Never,” she said, eyes sparkling. “It's the only leverage I have.”

The ball soared through the air, way too far to Vanessa’s left, and she reached out and snatched it just above the ground. “I can't believe you still remember that,” she said disbelievingly, shaking her head.

“I think I have it on tape, somewhere,” Nina added.

“The  _ point  _ is, I'm not nervous,” Vanessa said, cutting off that train of thought before it ended in watching old tapes on the dusty carpet in Nina’s living room.

“Well, good, because I got first base line tickets and I expect to be seeing you run past me a lot,” Nina said slyly, and Vanessa’s head snapped up.

“What? How did — why did you get baseline tickets, those cost a fortune for the first game of the season!” she said, aghast.

“I wanted to see you,” Nina said simply.

Vanessa threw her hands up in the air. “Nina, you don't have that kind of money, you need your cash for college! I could have gotten you a ticket, why didn't you  _ ask _ ?”

Nina looked affronted. “I'm doing fine, and I can manage my own money,” she said in a clipped tone. “I thought you’d be happy to hear that I'm coming to your first game. I wanted to surprise you.”

“ _ Yo sé,  _ Nina, and I appreciate it, but…” Vanessa searched desperately for the words. “But you can't afford it and you know it. You don't even have a couch! Baseline first game tickets are a couple hundred dollars!”

The ball was still in Vanessa’s glove, but she’d forgotten about it; and Nina tugged her glove off her hand. “I didn't realize it was such a big deal. Sorry,” she said coolly, but there was anger and dejection in her voice.

Her  _ sorry _ was empty and she stalked off, slid into her car, and drove away before Vanessa could remind her that the glove wasn't hers to take home.

Vanessa crossed her arms over her chest. She refused to chase after Nina; couldn't she see she was wrong? It was too much to spend on something like a baseball game ticket, which Nina really didn't even know anything about, and wouldn't care about if Vanessa didn't play professionally.

She threw her glove on the ground, tempted to step on it for emphasis, but it was a nice glove and she hated to ruin it. So she stomped on the grass instead, relishing in how it flattened to her will, and then swiped it up angrily, stormed inside and slammed the door.

Stupid Nina.

_ I can't afford to be this distracted _ , Vanessa thought bitterly.  _ I have a big game tomorrow. _

Her glove fell to the hardwood floor and her hip hit the corner of a side table as she made her way to her room. “Shit!”

There would be a bruise there. But  _ whatever _ . This was Nina’s fault.

There was still an hour of daylight, but Vanessa collapsed into bed and fell asleep — the perfect way to forget your problems.

* * *

 

“Ladies and gentlemen of Nationals Park, please give it up for the very first female Nationals player, taking second base, number 21, Vanessa García!”

There was an earsplitting smattering of applause and whooping from the crowd, and Vanessa watched from the dugout as her face appeared on the big screen. She was smiling in her picture, the baseball bat slung over her shoulder with ease, and now she scowled at the image. Smiling in pictures was for losers. Losers with best friends who didn’t stalk off.

She wanted to look out at the crowd and see if she could spot Nina, but there were way too many people and besides, Nina would probably be late. If she was still coming. A stone dropped in Vanessa’s stomach.  _ Oh god, what if she decided not to come?  _ Baseball tickets didn't come with refunds.

“Get it together, García,” she muttered, and pinched herself. “You have a game to play.”

Her teammates all patted her on the back as they passed her and claimed their places on the field. Vanessa sighed, closed her eyes (she saw Nina and blinked it away), took a deep breath that did nothing to ease her stormy mood, and then jogged out on the field to second base.

The crowd cheered again, a few people wolf-whistled, and Vanessa had half a mind to give them the finger. “It's not a big deal,” she said lowly through gritted teeth, thinking about how sexist baseball still was even though women had been integrated into most MLB teams by now, and held up her hand to catch the ball that was speeding at her from Rendon at third base.

The sound of it hitting the leather felt like someone was shifting puzzle pieces in her brain, and  _ that  _ eased her mind, at least.

The clock ran down for their warm up, and when it hit 00:00, Harper in right field threw it to Zimmerman on first base, and Zimmerman threw it to Scherzer at the pitcher’s mound, and the announcer bellowed “PLAY BALL!”

Vanessa felt the adrenaline start to flow, and her vision sharpened, and she crouched over defensively, ready to play the best damn baseball game.

The first pitch was being thrown by — even this made her feel better — President Obama, who smiled and waved good-naturedly as he strolled out of their dugout onto the field, flanked by serious-looking security guards with shiny earpieces and shiny bald heads.

It was weird to see someone in a fancy suit on a baseball field, and even weirder to see Max Scherzer step back and hand President Obama the ball, but Vanessa was ready for anything when Tyler Austin of the Yankees (the  _ away _ team always batted first) stepped up to home plate and waited for the pitch.

It was a terrible pitch, high and outside, and Vanessa stifled a giggle and threw a look to Espinosa at shortstop. He was grinning.

The crowd cheered again — when wasn’t the crowd cheering? — and Obama chuckled agreeably and was escorted off the field.

The game had begun.

The first pitch whistled right down the middle, and Vanessa silently fist pumped. So far, no disasters.

Nina was around here somewhere, sitting close to the field, maybe watching her. The thought sent chills running up Vanessa’s back, and she straightened her spine and kept her eyes stubbornly on the batter.

_ Crack! _ The bat connected with the ball and soared high into the sky, way out into right field. Vanessa watched it go,  _ chassé _ -shuffled back to her base (and they told her ballet was a waste of her time), even though she knew Harper had this one in the bag.

Fly ball, right field, one out. No one on base yet.

Vanessa couldn’t help but glance out into the spectator seating. By the first base line — was that her? No, just a curly-haired girl with a cardigan. Not Nina. Too many curly girls in the stadium. Vanessa balled her fist. Why were there so many damn  _ people _ at this game?

Not that she cared. Nina had overpaid for this game. Vanessa shouldn’t forgive her so quickly.

So why did she feel warm all the way down to her toes when she thought about it?

Chase Headley up to bat. Batting lefty this time, apparently. Vanessa shook her head to clear it and her ponytail slapped the nape of her neck and her cheek. This was the first game of the season, and she needed to be in peak condition, physically  _ and _ mentally.

“Come on, Scherzer,” she mumbled into her knuckles, and stiffened as he threw the pitch. Inside. Ball one.

Vanessa glanced around her. Everyone else was at attention, crouching over slightly, their gloves hovering over their chests readily to catch any ball that came at them. All eyes were on the batter.

She mentally kicked herself and looked back at Headley.

There was a whole game ahead of her — she couldn’t get ahead of herself.

* * *

 

“Alright, we’re doing great, so let’s not lose momentum,” Lobaton said encouragingly in the dugout at the bottom of the ninth inning as they put their gloves down and sat, prepared to bat the end of the game. The score, displayed in bright pixelated letters on the big screen, was 3-3, a tie game. But the Yankees hadn’t scored in the top of the inning, which meant all they had to do to win was score one run. Vanessa’s grouchy mood had been greatly assuaged by this, and she had even managed a short exchange of Spanish chatter with Rendon. His Spanish was Mexican and hers was Argentinian but they managed, although it did make Vanessa’s heart ache remembering when Nina was learning Spanish, trying to sound out the harder words and always forgetting that double  _ l _ s are pronounced like  _ y _ s.

She picked it up quicker than most, though, and now loved to talk to Vanessa in Spanish. Vanessa loved her accent, how it was rough at the edges but soft in the middle, and she always rolled her  _ r _ s a little more than she needed to.

Dusty Baker, her coach, interrupted her train of thought by reading off the roster. “Zimmerman, you’re our leadoff. Murphy, on deck. García, 3-hole. After García, Rendon. Then Espinosa, and then…”

Vanessa drowned out the rest of it and leaned against the wall, arms folded over her chest. She pulled off her hat, slid the hair tie out of her hair, and put it back up in a neater ponytail before tugging it back through the hole in the back of her baseball cap.

It was  _ hot _ out, and Vanessa’s uniform was smudged with dust and dirt and sweat from sliding into bases and diving to catch balls. It gave her a rush, even just looking at the stains.

The game was almost over and they had practically won. Team rules dictated that you weren’t allowed to say that until the game was over, because god forbid you jinx it (jinxing stuff was bullshit, but what Baker said, went), but they were all thinking it. Their lineup was airtight — Zimmerman was a solid hitter, and Murphy was too, and, to be perfectly fair, Vanessa was a very good batter herself, thanks very much. She’d already hit a single and a double in this game and she’d been at bat four times. Two for four was pretty legitimate.

Her eyes fluttered shut, relishing in a moment alone in the shade, and said under her breath, “ _ Que calòr _ .”

The acknowledgment of the heat did nothing to mitigate it, and she exhaled heavily.

A few minutes passed. Zimmerman hit a single and claimed first base. Vanessa thought about how Nina had worked her ass off all of last summer and wouldn’t tell Vanessa why. “College stuff,” she’d said vaguely, and Vanessa had been infuriated by this, because weren’t they the token best friends who had no secrets and told each other everything? Why was Nina suddenly withholding information? “What kind of stuff?” Vanessa would demand, and Nina would just grin ambiguously and say, “You’ll see.”

Murphy took the plate. Vanessa was up after Murphy, and she almost zombie-walked to the on deck area and grabbed the bat.

An imaginary pitch flew at her face and she swung sharply at it. The bat cut cleanly through the air and sent the invisible ball flying toward the stands. She thought about how every time she’d ever brought up her potential baseball career, Nina had snapped to attention and encouraged her to keep talking. Vanessa wasn’t the type to go on and on about things, but Nina coaxed it out of her, and her expression was genuinely interested if slightly perplexed. Vanessa always glowed talking about baseball, and Nina’s eyes were always so bright listening to her.

She sighed and realization hit her like a brick to the face, because Nina had always  _ cared _ about her career, just like she had always  _ cared _ about Nina’s college studies, even though the idea of sitting behind a desk listening to lectures for four years made her want to vomit. Nina talked about her classes with such passion that Vanessa always wanted her to go on, to never stop talking.

She heard the ball make contact with the bat, and on the field, Murphy made a mad dash for first base as the ball rolled rapidly past the second baseman and the center fielder ran to scoop it up.

He rounded first base and sprinted to second, then dove to the base and his palm smacked the top just as the second baseman caught the ball. Vanessa whooped silently.

She was up to bat.

Zimmerman was on third, and Murphy was on second. How  _ awesome _ would it have been to hit a home run just then? Three-run homer. The perfect fairy-tale ending to this game. But Vanessa didn’t believe in fairy-tale endings; she believed in gritty, dirty work until you made your way to the top, to this moment.

To the make-or-break moment of the game.

If she got out, there would only be one out. And Rendon would pick up her slack, but she’d feel that shame forever, feel those asshole sexist guys muttering, “See, girls just can’t play baseball.”

Well, fuck that. Vanessa dropped her bat and stepped confidently onto the field. So what if she strutted to home plate? She was allowed. She was Vanessa Otilia García, the first female player on the Washington Nationals, and she was a damn winner.

And besides, Nina was watching. Vanessa had never let her down.

All eyes were on her, but her eyes were on Dellin Betances, standing on the pitcher’s mound, his posture rigid even though they were on the verge of a losing game. Vanessa could appreciate the forced confidence – fake it 'til you make it, right? She swept up the bat that Murphy had dropped, positioned it strategically over her shoulder.

_ Bend your knees. Tilt your chin up. Feet shoulder-width apart. Back elbow up. Straighten the spine. Choke up on the bat.  _ Her checklist, one that was always running in her head.

She tapped the visor of her hat once, just for effect, and then squinted her eyes ever so slightly. Leaned forward just so.

The first pitch was outside. Vanessa’s knuckles were white on the neck of the bat. She could feel her palms start to sweat and thought, ironically,  _ I don’t get nervous _ .

Nina knew her, though, and Nina was watching this game right now, and Vanessa knew that Nina knew that she was nervous. She would never admit it, but Nina always knew.

Smartest girl in the  _ barrio _ , that Nina.

The second pitch was right in the strike zone, and Vanessa blinked and it was in the catcher’s mitt.

“Fuck,” she muttered, quietly.

This was the moment of truth; she could feel it in her bones, like someone had doused her in gasoline and was just about to light a match. Her whole body was alive, and in slow-motion, the third pitch came at her.

The bat whistled as it sliced through the air and connected with the ball with a sharp  _ crack! _ The ball shot down the third base line, and Vanessa  _ sprinted _ .

She was about to step on first base when a deafening uproar arose from the stadium. Zimmerman had made it to home plate and she landed on the base as a feeling too big to be pride and too overwhelming to even name swelled up in every part of her.

The crowd was chanting something, and after a moment to regain her hearing, she deciphered it.

“Gar-cí-a! Gar-cí-a! Gar-cí-a!”

“Holy shit, that’s me!” she said excitedly, and the first baseman gave her a half-smile. At that exact moment she didn’t remember his name, and probably would’ve forgotten her own if they weren’t screaming it all around her. “That’s me, they’re chanting my name!”

“Yeah, good game,” the first baseman said halfheartedly. “You played well, García.”

“Uh, thanks...dude,” she said, grinning sheepishly.

“Teixeira,” he supplied.

“Right,  _ graciás, _ Teixeira,” she told him. She loved how resigned he looked and didn’t even feel the slightest bit of remorse at his expression, even though he was clearly upset by their loss, because holy  _ shit _ , they had  _ won! _

“ _ Ganamos _ , Vanessa!” Rendon shouted, and clapped her on the back.

“I know, I know!”

“Thanks to you,” he added, and she glowed inside all over again.

* * *

 

The congratulations were exchanged, hugs were given, and everyone clapped her on the back and said, “Nice hit, García,” or “I knew you had it in you, García,” or “You crushed it like we all knew you would, García,” but at the end of the day there was only one opinion she cared about.

Nina was still waiting when Vanessa emerged from the stadium two hours later. Vanessa strode over to her at once.

“ _ Carajo _ , Nina, have you been standing here all night? You’re —” She cut off, because Nina was looking at her with an expression of mingled pride, delight, and adoration.

“I knew you'd win, I just _knew_ it. I could see it in your face,” she said, her voice filled overwhelmingly with love and other dumb cheesy perfect crap. She looked down and grabbed Vanessa's hand, as if on a whim, and Vanessa felt the tingling _all_ _over_.

“Hey, Nina,” Vanessa said quickly. “I was a jerk. About you buying the ticket. I'm sorry.”

Apologies weren't usually her thing, but she was learning to make a lot of exceptions for Nina.

“I was saving up,” Nina said, shrugging. “It didn't take anything out of my college funds, don't worry. I'm covered. And I'm thinking of buying a couch.”

Vanessa laughed, and then Nina smiled shyly and her other hand was warm on the back of Vanessa's neck, and then her lips were warm on Vanessa's.

Vanessa was almost too stunned to react, and then it fully sank in that this was her Nina Rosario kissing her, and she kissed her back, softly, which  _ also _ wasn't like her. Nina was always soft and gentle and giving more than she took, and Vanessa's fingers curled around the back of Nina's neck and let Nina have this as much as Vanessa was. It wasn't crazed passion and it wasn't a kiss for the sake of a kiss, the kind Vanessa was used to.

But it was love, so much that Vanessa thought her heart would burst, and when Nina drew away a moment later with a pink blush blossoming on her cheeks and biting her lip nervously, Vanessa exhaled and said, “Wow, that was a warm congratulations.”

“I'm so proud of you,” Nina said, her smile almost too wide to fit her face. Her stupid, pretty, perfect, rosy face.

Vanessa laced her finger with Nina's and pressed their palms together. “So tell me,” she said, “did you understand anything that was going on?”

“Your team scored three times,” Nina said, as if reciting it from memory. “And you singlehandedly won the game.”

“It wasn't  _ just _ me,” Vanessa protested.

“You're just saying that.” Nina's sly expression matched exactly the one she'd had the day before, playing catch in Vanessa's front yard.

“Damn, you're good. It was all me. Actually, even the other guys were me, it was just me in dress up.”

“Yeah? I thought you looked best as the second base person,” Nina told her matter-of-factly, and Vanessa giggled (maybe she was really being possessed, because this was not the same Vanessa she'd been three hours ago) and stole another kiss, and then swung their arms back and forth as they climbed into Nina's car and drove back to Vanessa's place.

They ended up watching old tapes on Vanessa's cushioned sofa. It was better than a dusty living room carpet, anyway.

  


**Author's Note:**

> This is so self-indulgent but I had so much fun writing it and flexing my knowledge of baseball so I hope you liked it as well. You may find me on the Tumblr [ @justcuzfandoms](http://justcuzfandoms.tumblr.com/) or [@vivilevone](http://vivilevone.tumblr.com/) and that's just about it! Hope you learned a thing or two about subjectively the greatest broadcast professional sport, adios!


End file.
